


Red Dreams

by actualkoschei



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-18
Updated: 2014-06-18
Packaged: 2018-02-05 04:43:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1805710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/actualkoschei/pseuds/actualkoschei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky has nightmares. Steve tries to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red Dreams

_Bucky's hands are stained red. The red, it runs over his fingers, drips off the dips and onto the floor, stains his skin and his clothes, anything he touches, and he can't ever wash it off. He has his hands around Steve's throat, pressing down and leaving dark bruises under his fingers as he chokes him. Steve sputters, fights against his grip, and then he stops choking and goes limp and still. Bucky cries out in horror, shaking Steve's body desperately. I didn't mean to, I never meant to. His cries go unheard, and then Steve eyes snap open and his face melts off, leaving only a grinning, crimson, skinless skull._  
And Bucky wakes gasping and fighting against the sweaty prison of his sheets. His throat is raw, his head pounds, and his eyes burn, swimming with unshed tears as he kicks out viciously.  
“Easy there, buddy.” An arm disentangles itself from the sheets and blankets, reaching out to press against the centre of Bucky's chest. Steve's voice is soft and muzzy with sleep, but it's like a balm to Bucky's ragged mind. He can feel the panic seeping away as he registers the hand pressed against him, the soft voice, and the hot, firm bulk of Steve against his side.  
“Hey.” Steve rolls over into the pool of light from the window, and Bucky can see him clearly, still looking half-asleep with rumpled hair and creases on his cheeks. “It's okay. You're okay.”  
Bucky twists, burying his head in Steve's chest, fighting back tears. “Just a dream, Buck. Just a bad dream.”  
“I know, but... _Steve_...”  
“I'm right here, sweetheart.”  
And that, that gentle, loving tone, endearments spoken in Steve's beautiful voice, that's what it takes for Bucky to really break down. He sobs, face buried in Steve's broad chest, cries and feels like he'll never be able to stop. His shoulders heave and his whole face feels hot and wet, salt with tears.  
It's all Steve can do just to tug Bucky into his arms and hold him through, rubbing his back and whispering gentle words in his ear. It's all Steve can ever. Bucky has these dreams, the Red Dreams, almost every night. They tear him to bits, and all Steve can ever do is calm him and comfort him and wish to high Heaven that he could just wipe away seventy years, and they could be kids in Brooklyn together again.  
Of course, Bucky's tears stop eventually. He still clings to Steve as they do, shaking and whimpering.  
“Do you need something, honey?”  
“Glass of water would be nice.” Steve moves to the kitchen, fills a glass with cool liquid and is back before Bucky has time to panic.  
“Here.” He cups his hand against the back of Bucky's neck, easing him into a sitting position. “Better?”  
“Little bit.” And that's the best they can hope for. A little bit better, every day. Because it adds up. It'll be okay, one day. Not for a long time, most likely. But one day.


End file.
